


Nature's First Green

by Dracoduceus



Series: Nothing Gold [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hanahaki AU, M/M, lover's spat, young mchanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 20:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: In a hidden corner of the grounds was a strange kind of willow tree.Late at night beneath its boughs Hanzo found the American dressed in all black.





	Nature's First Green

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 Prompt (Young McHanzo AU) of the Target Practice discord group's anniversary event.

In a hidden corner of the grounds was a strange kind of willow tree. Hanzo had once explained to a foreigner – and American, no less! – that it was a gift from the Russian mafia. He had regaled the story of how a group of burly Russian mobsters that looked more like pale, hairless gorillas had presented Hanzo’s father and the Elders with an ugly little shrub with blade-shaped leaves.

Hanzo’s mother had loved it – she had called it a willow tree – and had begged Hanzo’s father to keep it. Sojiro had allowed it so long as it was hidden in a corner of the gardens where no one would see it. The ugly shrub had grown into a short tree with long branches that hung like rope and were covered in the same strange blade-shaped leaves.

After her death it had become one of Hanzo’s favorite spots to sit in quiet meditation since no one would approach the tree, not even his brother at his brattiest. Sojiro would have torn it down had his wife not loved it but he still had other trees moved to further block it from sight. Now the  _ sakura _ petals caught on the blades of the willow’s leaves, giving it the appearance of a single entity.

Late at night beneath its boughs Hanzo found the American dressed in all black.

Hanzo slid astride his lap, running his hands through the American’s wavy brown hair, and kissed him. His big hands came up to rest on Hanzo’s hips like lead weights. “Jesse?” Hanzo asked when he didn’t reciprocate the kiss.

“I heard you today,” Jesse said roughly. “Speaking to Sojiro.”

Leaning back, Hanzo looked down at him. Jesse’s eyes were hard like cut stones, his mouth twisted into a frown that didn’t fit his face. Hooking a finger beneath Jesse’s chin, Hanzo tilted his head back but let his hand fall when Jesse jerked away. “What did you hear?” he asked, pulling back to hide how hurt he was. The edge in Jesse’s voice cut as deep as a  _ tantō _ .

“That I’m just your toy,” Jesse sneered. “For your  _ amusement _ ; to be discarded when you’d had your fun.”

“It is my duty to provide an heir to our dynasty,” Hanzo gritted out, his English coming out sharp and brittle like broken glass. “My feelings have no say in that matter.”

Jesse snorted. “Yeah, save it for someone who believes you.”

“You doubt my word?” Hanzo asked, surprised at how hurt he was at the thought. He’d lied and cheated; he’d tortured, killed, and maimed. He’d given orders and carried out the killing of innocents to convey a message, had killed up close and from afar, with blade and bow and poison. He’d fought and run on injured bones, had felt his blade cut through flesh and had felt blades cut through his own. He’d sat through days of tattooing done in the traditional way and had hidden his pain behind a wall of obsidian.

Yet now the mere thought that Jesse might doubt him, doubt his words…they cut deeper, cut more ragged than any pain that Hanzo had endured.

Jesse leaned close but it wasn’t to kiss him. He sneered into Hanzo’s face. “Yup,” he said, popping his lips on the ‘p’. “Can’t say I trust you. Not sure I could ever.”

Very slowly Hanzo stood and brushed himself off, tugging back the cloak of the haughty young heir. He said nothing as he stood and left.

“Not even going to defend yourself?” Jesse taunted from beneath the curtain of the willow’s weeping branches.

Hanzo paused. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look back at Jesse. “What’s the use?” he asked the stone lantern beside the path. “You wouldn’t believe my words anyway.” He kept walking.

The next morning the Blackwatch group said their formal goodbyes to the Shimada Clan. Jesse…no,  _ McCree _ was with them, dressed as he had the night before in his black BDUs. His face was twisted in a scowl and he wouldn’t look at Hanzo.

Sojiro was not in attendance so Hanzo sat in his stead. He and Commander Reyes traded their too-pleasant words of thanks and welcome, sugar-coated and saccharine. Was this what McCree’s words had been? Had they all been like this?

Things began falling into place. Clearly McCree had known he was leaving last night – had that been why he had wanted to see Hanzo? Had snuck into his room to leave a note to meet him by “their” willow?

Then of course he had overheard Hanzo and Sojiro. He had gotten the last say and Hanzo steeled his heart against the hurt.

It still stung. That McCree might also be hurting from Hanzo’s brusque words was conveniently forgotten and ignored.

Did it matter? Hanzo wondered to himself as Reyes made another speech about friendliness and strengthening ties. Is that why McCree had sought him out? Had he just been a pawn in  _ strengthening ties _ between the Shimada Clan and Blackwatch? The thought sent a bitter note rising in his throat.

It was his turn to speak and Hanzo said something about the satisfaction of their alliance and left an open-ended statement that they may consider another such collaboration in the future.

Like a pair of mating storks, each performing their dance. Hanzo had always enjoyed it but now, feeling McCree’s eyes boring into him as he spoke, the feeling soured.

Reyes made his closing statement and Hanzo made his. Behind him he could feel rather than hear or see Genji yawning.

The Blackwatch group left except for McCree who lingered. “Hanzo,” he said.

Hanzo stood. “Did your master not call you to heel?” he asked, looking down his nose at McCree from his spot on the dais.

“Hanzo,” McCree said again, softer.

Even if he had wanted to talk now was not the place, not with the eyes and ears of the guards and the Elders an oppressive presence. Genji looked at Hanzo with begging eyes and Hanzo looked away from both of them. Was it not enough to feel the stinging rejection the night before?

Hanzo turned away. “Now is not the time for speaking,” he said as coldly as he could. It was easier not seeing the expression on McCree’s face. “You had been dismissed and your party is leaving. I suggest you catch up to them.”

“Hanzo,” Genji said very quietly. “Just speak to him.”

“ _ How naïve you are _ ,” Hanzo hissed to Genji in an undertone.

“ _ Better naïve than stonehearted, _ ” Genji shot back just as quietly, their voices as soft as the beat of a moth’s wings. “ _ Is that what you desire? To be so cold that your heart shatters? _ ”

Hanzo looked at his brother, tipped his head back ever so slightly to look into his earnest eyes. Perhaps he truly believed that he was doing the right thing but Hanzo knew better.  _ He _ at least knew of the deadly spider’s web they were caught up in.

Even if Hanzo turned around and allowed McCree to speak, what good would come from it? More likely than not Hanzo would wake one day to find him killed.

He hadn’t been lying when he said that he was expected to produce heirs. His dalliance with a man such as McCree would be balanced on the razor-edge of a blade, good and bad all in one. It was better this way.

If only his heart would agree with his logic; if only it would stop hurting.

“Go home, coyote,” Hanzo said louder, without turning away from Genji. “Run home to your master.” It almost hurt – physically hurt – to say the secretive name he would call McCree beneath the boughs of the willow tree but his tone didn’t waver. “Now is not the time to speak; you missed your chance.”

It remained as cold as the darkest winter night.

Hanzo left. Genji looked heartbroken; he didn’t want to see what kind of expression was on McCree’s face. He waved off the servants that came to speak to him and excused himself from his tutors, citing a need to meditate on the conversation with Commander Reyes. Let them report to the Elders – they would only be pleased that Hanzo was taking his duty seriously.

He gently parted the boughs of the willow tree, sending fine pink petals fluttering down around him like snow. His sanctuary was empty and he hated himself for so fervently hoping to see McCree – to see  _ Jesse _ – one last time.

But the time to speak of such things had come and gone; he hadn’t been lying when he told McCree. Kneeling in the cup formed by the willow’s trunk and roots, Hanzo meditated. He drew around him the strong obsidian walls he had been building since childhood, since his understanding of his life as the heir.

_ Be as glass _ , his mother had said.  _ Be as stone _ .

Hanzo tried but instead of reflecting back a proud  _ yakuza _ heir all Hanzo saw was a heartbroken young man crying for his lost lover.

* * *

Months later, trapped in a dirty cell and resigned to his death, McCree began coughing up  _ sakura _ petals and willow leaves. Seeing them, he let his head fall back against the cold concrete ground and laughed despite the shooting pain in his sides from broken ribs. 

“I knew it,” he whispered, a  _ sakura _ petal clinging stubbornly to his lip. _You fool_ , he could almost hear Hanzo tell him. A tear slid down his cheek. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Feel free to come and yell at me on tumblr at [Classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/).
> 
> ~DC


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